I found the following letter on the web site of author Alice Miller:
http://www.alice-miller.com/forum_en.php?page=2.
Miller has written many books and I think she is great. Although Miller did not write the following letter (I don't know who wrote it), the letter has some statements which really touched me, like: "In my experience, there is nothing more terrifying and shocking than the truth when you have a lived a lie your whole life.
"
This letter is long and confusing. I have edited it because it was too long to post.
I believe that this letter is the response from 'A' to 'L' and in the response, A quotes L's original letter.
a letter from A.
Dear L,
I am so sorry for the delay. Thank you for taking the time to share your story with me. There is so much in the things that you write because you are very open in your posts and you share so much of yourself. It seems that your hard work is paying off. You are getting closer and that can be very scary. Your walk sounds so terrifying, my heart went out to you in your terror, but at the same time I knew that you were getting closer and I was happy for you. So much of this journey toward wellness is so hard. You have been through so much, sometimes the cure can feel as awful as the malady. Your devotion to your parents is touching in a way, because the beautiful loving child you were just can't believe that her parents were truly as bad as they seem. She is still protecting the "love" she received from them and as a direct result--L. the adult continues to defend both her parents and feel "awed" by them. My therapist says that whatever is done to the child, the child will interpret it as love. Beating, burning, raping, whipping, whatever. The child will continue to believe and defend. I know that it was to survive, but what about now. Why still?
We were such good little children that did what our parents wanted, even if it meant being used. As adults we remain good daughters and continue to deny the truth in a fundamental way. I think inaction is not only a defense, but also a fundamental denial of our abuse. For my part, I hate this self-delusion because it is a huge injustice. It makes heroes out of our mean abusive parents and maintains our victimization. How does one break this demonic cycle?
My last session, it struck me that I continue to protect my mother in subtle and almost imperceptible ways. Mild enough to not evoke my hatred and anger, but indicative of my still hopeless attachment.
Then it occurred to me that in my family I was taught to always shift the attention away from me and to minimize my own suffering. I wasn't supposed to dwell or be a victim. My mother would actually mock me sarcastically when I was upset and say--"yes, what a victim you are," like the idea was the most ridiculous thing in the world.
My therapist brought up my treatment at my brother's wedding again, but I continued to dismiss it by saying that it was really about my brother. When I left, I could feel my continued attachment to her. I felt so angry with myself and frustrated. I think that I didn't want to talk about it because I had done my job at his wedding--my mother had been upset so she was vicious and sadistic to me throughout. My treatment was what I had been taught was supposed to happen when she was upset. I think that is why I kept stressing why she was upset, instead of what she did to me. I didn't matter and the injustice of what she did to me didn't matter. It was my job to be treated that way when she was upset. I was defending it somehow and still being the good little girl.
How hard it is to break away from so much insanity.
You wrote that you feel you have "corny problems" for having an evil mother and a kinder-seeming father, unlike others you knew whose main problem was their father. I don't think the child's problems were ever corny. I too used to think that I had an evil mother and a kind father. Now I think that I had an evil mother and an evil father. For my part, I feel very angry at my mean father. The anger that I couldn't feel at him as a child, I feel now. I hate him. He is a base and selfish coward. He sacrificed me to make his life more comfortable. My father betrayed me for brief moments of superficial safety, revenge and quiet. He let her do what ever she wanted. He didn't care what her abuse would do to me. My life was risk-able to him.
To think that I was grateful to the bastard makes me furious all over again. I don't have the words to explain how disgusting and subhuman he is. He didn't deserve my love, my admiration or my help. Frankly, he didn't even deserve me as a daughter. I feel duped, betrayed and angry.I have already confronted him several times and each time he squirms and is quiet.
Very Typical. This kind of research helps me because it is undeniable proof and empirical evidence. It strengthens the resolve of the adult to accept the truth staring us in the face: he is a spineless self-serving coward, and no lie I tell myself is going to change that. For me, the research speeds the separation along and breaks down my defensive fantasies. I think that the main difference in separating from my father versus separating from my mother is that I am not afraid of him and I am still terrified of her. I can see how fear sabotages the separation process from my mother.
Sometimes, I still feel twinges of pity for them, but they are short-lived because I feel worse for myself. I am sick of pretending and of lying.
My father is a terrible father who gave with one hand and took back with the other. He was a poor excuse for a father and he didn't deserve a daughter as loving, loyal and dedicated as me. He used me and never cared for me.
He is finally losing his daughter. I know that the more I give up my father, the more I can gain myself. The more I give up my mother, the more alive and the less afraid of life I will be.
Your parents sound awful. Your father had some nerve. He sounds deeply disturbed and your mother sounds like the proverbial hypocrite, fiddling as Rome burned. She was a wolf in sheep's clothing.
You know, that is what I hate the most in all this dysfunction--the dishonesty. Nothing is as it appears, everything is twisted and stunted.
Your father sounds a lot like mine in his passive aggressive cowardice.
The trip into the forest was so obnoxious. What a jerk. To purposely keep you lost and desperate so he could feel powerful is pathetic and extremely mean.
To encourage you, only to tell you later to not bother because you are "decorative," sounds insane. Mixed messages are the worst. A good dose of confusion tossed into the steady diet of lies and manipulation.
Lately, it is beginning to dawn on me that many of the things that our parents did were crazy and the messages were at least that.
It was evil of your father to show you his poems and pictures. It was a complete abuse of power to draw you into his sickness and rob you of your innocence. How dare he try to drag you into his dark world. To show you his strange, erotic pictures and scary poems was an act of cruelty that you were in no position to handle.
People that love and care about their loved ones, try to protect them from darkness and pain, and do not encourage them to jump in the ditch with them.
For the record, you are not him, you are you. His history is not your history. You are not doomed. First your father tries to drag you into the darkness with him, and then your mother meanly and self-righteously tells you that you are like your father who is doomed (like she should talk). The logical conclusion is that his fate will be yours too. What else were you supposed to think? What a vicious and cruel mind game.
Your parents' failure to protect you is criminal.
My husband drew a picture of me once for our anniversary, and in it, there is a colorful, womanly shape with hair like mine and a heart both huge and bright. It was a lovely gift. I think the picture fits you too.
Like mine, your mother doesn't like the true, curvy, colorful L. with the big heart--she wants you drab and nonexistent like her. She would love to contain and manage your essence, but she can't--anymore than she managed to dress you in head to toe gray.
Sometimes I think that my parents behaved so badly because they were abused, an effective block to the truth. For me, that block has stopped working because I have realized that there is no excuse for abuse. Our parents abused us because they could and because in the end, they had no conscience to stop them.
No matter what happened in our house, my parents were always the only victims. My brother and I didn't even have the right to be considered victims because our pain and suffering were never recognized. We weren't even allowed to think of ourselves as victims. I think that was why I seemed so strong, like a robot. Because whatever happened--I just took it and "moved forward" like nothing ever happened. A friend said to me once: "Your parents act like you are not even human." Truer words were never spoken.
Like yours, my father also portrayed himself as the perpetual victim, the last good man. All the better to manipulate me. The truth is that he is not a good man and bad men like him are a dime a dozen. To even think of him playing the victim and then watching as my mother attacked (or leaving as my mother attacked) makes me furious. As a teenager and young adult, I remember being obsessed with being honest and straightforward, habits that often got me into trouble because I refused to make allowances for tact. Now I know that the obsession came from being surrounded by base liars (my parents) all my life.
I am glad that the post I wrote about my father and my activity problem helped you. It is a hard issue. I understand so well the things that you have written about your father. He was the kinder parent, but still abusive and inappropriate. That is a vile truth to accept. For me, speaking out about my father's duplicity, manipulation and cowardice is a step toward a cure. As I begin to hear and feel the truth, it is like a balm on my wounds.
Interestingly, my husband reacts strongly to my father. He doesn't like him. He can see through him so easily. His insights into my father and my mother have really helped me. His eyes and mind don't have the shackles that mine do when it comes to them. I use him as a reality check in my research with them. I trust his perception and he relishes the role and is quite good at it.
I remember when you wrote of your fear of separation and abandonment.
At the time, I wrote you that it is not very strong in me, day to day, and that is true.
However, there is one exception. In moments where I have to stand up and protect myself with my husband, I feel the fear you speak of. I mean the big fights when I have to take a stand because I feel like I am not being respected or I am being betrayed somehow.
For a long time, in these instances, I could only get angry and stop speaking to him. I couldn't work through it because I would feel overwhelmed. I was always confused and frustrated by my inability to resolve the problem and especially by the way the same thing would happen the next time.
I understand now that I couldn't work through it because what was coming up was residual fear of separation and abandonment (from my relationship with my parents). When I finally named it, I began to handle it better.
The first step was to tease the past from the present, i.e., the child from the married adult woman.
It was very hard, but as I did that, I began to really understand how the feelings could be from the past, and not from the present.
The cast off feelings (of the child) that came up at those times felt so irrational, desperate and strong. I used to feel so mystified whenever it happened and I couldn't explain or understand my own behavior.
I think that each time, I was actually transported to the past and forced to relive my mother's rejection of me and the fear that I had of losing her. The more serious fights with my husband where I was required to stand up for myself triggered the child's fear of abandonment and rejection. Because deep down I was afraid that I didn't have the right to ask for anything or to even defend myself.
The fact that my parents abandoned me and rejected me regularly bubbled up during these times and hit me like a ton of bricks. No fantasy or lie could protect me from the truth that was trying to break through.
Now, when the feelings of rejection and fear of abandonment come up, I recognize them as coming from the child. I think: My husband is not going anywhere. If he does, I can handle it. It is just a disagreement,
I must stand up for what I believe. There is no other way, it is the right thing. I must protect myself. We will be okay. The scary feelings don't have anything to do with this situation, but with my parents.
Separate them and put the feelings that are about them away so that we can resolve this problem in the present, and it works.
At first, I was terrified when I stood my ground with words and asked for what I wanted, but I held my ground and the world didn't end. He didn't leave me and we negotiated. With each time, the terror lessened.
Now, I am struck by the power and depth of the rejected feelings that came up at those times. They seemed to be all encompassing and to have no bottom.
My therapist says that in childhood, all messages are magnified. When I think of the messages that I got, it makes me shudder to think of the damage that I have on the inside. When I think that the feelings of rejection and abandonment that came up then were a sneak peak of the abyss inside, it makes me so sad. My poor, lovely child stuck in that hell, put there by that immoral witch and her immoral cohort. The thought makes me even more determined to take her out of there. She had been punished too much and for what? for existing?!
My rejection and abandonment have cut me to the quick and scarred me for life. It is that simple. The desperation and terror that I used to revisit was what I felt every day as my mother rejected and abandoned
me anew each day, in a cycle that began when I was born the wrong gender.
My mother would always talk about the horror of my birth, of how much she had wanted a boy, of my bad character, etc. It is no wonder my child felt so desperate for love and understanding, so terrified of rejection and abandonment. So abject and silent in her misery. How could she speak, she had been silenced through terror and her voice and will had been stolen.
When those feelings were triggered in my relationship, I lost the ability to speak in my anger just like when I was a child.
Either silence or when triggered more profoundly--raving, illogical rages where I couldn't stop talking about my pain. How sad it is that I was hurt so deeply. Now I feel sympathy for the me that was trapped in those awful feelings of the past, unable to find a way out or to even understand what was happening.
Despite all my mother's murderous messages, I am lovable. As a child and young adult, I was injured, broken, wounded, half-dead, but I was lovely and deserving all the same.
Your fear and suspicion of having been sexually abused sounds very important, maybe that's why you are so sick--perhaps the truth is getting closer to the surface and a part of you is defending and protecting you from it.
It is all very hard to piece together, but you will do it a little at a time--like the rest of us.
In my experience, good information gathering happens when there has been a positive shift that brings you closer to the truth.
Unfortunately, feeling and accepting the truth is a miserable experience in the day to day. It is a terrible thing to have to live through so much pain and betrayal.
I am so sorry that you have to go through all these hard things, but you are very brave for doing it. It is no small feat.
For me, the times when I have grown in strength, truth and knowledge, is especially when I have felt the smallest and the saddest. The truth will come to you, it is already breaking through in your dreams. It sounds like you have opened the doors wide, and the pieces are coming to you. In my experience, there is nothing more terrifying and shocking than the truth when you have a lived a lie your whole life.
Thank you for your kind comments about my mother. Yes, you are right--my mother had absolutely no shame in abusing me. She was proud of it and blamed me for it. She has an absolute and unbelievable sense of entitlement.
What do you say about a mother like that?-- I just sighed as I typed that.
I think the truth creates paths where none existed before, and you are probably on one right now.
I read where you wrote that you feel like an actor on a stage. It's funny, but a while back, I wrote an entry in my journal about how I was an actress in my mother's play. She was the director and I her clown, her caricature, her invention. It was all about how I needed to find my way off her stage, out of her costume and out of her theater. It was very important at the time.
For me, it signified an important shift from Mommy's marionette to sympathetic, more powerful adult. I had to separate from my assigned role in her sick play so that I could finally see and feel myself. I remember that I was especially touched by the fact that it was her stage, her play, her costumes, her dialogue and her direction. I wasn't even a real actress, but a slave since I had no choice but to act out this role until I died, still on stage.
I knew then that it was all too true and that I had to leave the stage, first to the wings and then slowly out of the theater forever.
L., you must take off that white nurse's apron. You are not the nurse. You are not an actress or a slave. You are the abused little girl forced to act like an adult and give up her innocence and her childhood to cater to selfish adults who should have been taking care of you.
I remember you writing that you feel disgusted to think that you should be cared for by others and noticed. Who is this? Is it L. or is it Mother that doesn't want L. to be cared for or noticed? You say that need implies weakness. Perhaps because you associate it with your needy, disturbing parents. To use a child to fulfill adult needs is disgusting and weak, but to have needs at all is to be fully human.
We are all needy at times and there is nothing wrong with that. There is nothing wrong with being seen or noticed by others. There is nothing wrong with having needs that you fill in reciprocal, adult relationships. You must separate your mother's (and father's) voice from your own, it is a hard thing to take them out, but it is crucial.
You are still running your mother's agenda, perhaps that is why you still feel on a stage. For me, it breaks my heart to admit that part of me is still running my mother's agenda. How hard it is to get beyond it.
So much of this process is a paradox. How awful that we must welcome and embrace our own extreme pain. It is pain to the left, pain to the right, pain all around and back again. Luckily, there are the good days too.
It is very tiring sometimes, but as I have personally experienced time and time again--this process does work. Pain moves us toward truth and truth inches us toward the freedom we have yearned for all our lives.
Keep up the good work. You are being so brave.
I wish you continued strength, courage and progress.
All the best.
With Warmest Wishes,
A
